A Crack in the Mask
by dratcat
Summary: Overcoming Doumeki's silence, and Watanuki's denial. The power of words, and of masks. DoumekiXWatanuki. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own xxxHOLiC, and intend no profit from this fanfiction. Shits and giggles only.

Author's note: PWP, pretty much. Self-pleasure is one of my biggest kinks. While dreams are one of the main themes of xxxHOLiC, perhaps they have been overused as plot devices in fanfiction. On the other hand, I'd say the reason dreams are so widespread in fanfiction in the first place is because they offer so many possibilities. So I've succumbed to the lure of using a dream here. These things granted, I have done my best. Please enjoy.

* * *

_We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin._

Andre Berthiaume

* * *

It was very cold. Doumeki Shizuka shivered and shoved his hands under his armpits, his breath fogging in the frigid air. He observed his surroundings, his face impassive. It was obvious he was in a dream.

He stood in an open white space. In the distance were faint grey dreamshapes that bounded his vision and provided a horizon. Without them he probably would have been able to see into the distance forever. He stood on ground that he could not see, but which was stable under his feet, which were quickly turning numb. He flexed his toes and began to walk.

After a few moments he heard a soft shuffling sound behind him. Turning his head, he saw nothing. He resumed his walk. When he heard the sound again, he turned and saw a dark butterfly hovering and drifting across the ground, leaving a wispy trail of faint grey smoke in its wake. It fluttered away from him, stopped momentarily as though hovering above a flower, and continued into the distance.

He watched it go.

"Shizuka."

He turned.

Watanuki stood in front of him, his face more relaxed than Shizuka had ever seen it in his presence. When he sighed, for a moment the fog which curled in the air looked almost like the trail of the butterfly. He held his hand out, watching him with those bright blue eyes.

This was definitely a dream. He knew that Watanuki's right eye should have been a different colour. Which was his fault, really.

Watanuki's outstretched hand was trembling slightly. Perhaps this dream-Watanuki was also feeling the cold.

So he took his hand.

Watching him still, the dream-Watanuki raised his hand, his skin a dark shock against his own, to his face. He breathed on it, the warm, humid air providing less than a moment's respite against the cold. Shizuka felt the beginnings of a shudder crawling up his spine and crushed it before it could go any further. Dream-Watanuki's eyelids fluttered and closed gently.

Before Shizuka could take his hand away, his dream grasped it with his other hand, squeezed it gently, and slipped it inside his robe.

Shizuka couldn't restrain a quiet gasp at the warmth of Watanuki's skin, and stepped closer, unknowingly, wonderingly. Watanuki would never have let him do this, let alone have initiated it. He had to remember that this was only a dream. Even if the dream was wearing Watanuki's face.

It was a dream. It wasn't real.

He could do whatever he wanted.

He stepped closer again, deliberately this time, and slipped his other hand inside Watanuki's clothes. His breath felt tight in his lungs.

The dream-Watanuki exhaled sharply at the feel of Shizuka's surely freezing hands.

Thus encouraged, Shizuka murmured a single word, released in a sigh.

"Watanuki."

Soft gusts of warm air began tugging at their clothes. Shizuka ran his hands up and across Watanuki's chest, over his shoulders, pushing away his robe. When it fell, Shizuka saw that the fine hairs on Watanuki's body were raised, and his nipples were tight with the cold.

Shizuka kneeled, pulling Watanuki down slowly with him.

If you wanted to worship, you had to kneel.

He leaned close, his mouth hovering over one of Watanuki's nipples. He could feel his own breath coming back at him in soft warm puffs. Slowly, carefully, he closed his mouth over Watanuki's nipple.

"Ah."

His eyes flicked up to Watanuki's face. His head was tilted back, exposing his neck. Shizuka's eyes traced white collarbones, could see Watanuki's breaths curling in the air.

He continued, his fingertips gently grazing Watanuki's ribs, hands coming to rest just above where the robe still hung on his hips. He allowed his tongue to press against Watanuki's nipple.

"H-hah. Hot," Watanuki gasped.

That was when Shizuka felt the searing jolt down his spine that galvanized him. Stiffening, he fisted his hands into Watanuki's robe and dragged it down off his hips. He pressed Watanuki down into the ground, pulled him closer, kneaded the flesh of Watanuki's lower back like a cat and devoured him, wanting more, wanting reciprocation.

Watanuki's mouth was hot, his tongue like velvet and silk, at turns rough and slippery. When Shizuka ground his hips into Watanuki, one hand came up and gripped his shoulder, the other fisting tightly in his hair. The pull on his scalp sent hot, prickly feelings down Shizuka's spine and he shuddered, gasping.

"How do you do this…to me."

* * *

Doumeki awoke gasping, hands clenched tight in the sheets, arousal coiled tight in his gut. Mindlessly, his hand drifted beneath the covers and found his erection.

He'd let himself do this, just this once. A little make-believe.

He imagined Watanuki's weight across his hips, felt his hands around his hot cock, rolled his hips and felt the friction. Too dry. He licked his palm and did it again. Much better.

He felt the words seeping up through his chest like thick smoke. He licked his lips, hesitated.

Moaned.

"Ahhh…Watanuki. Please…"

The words were more difficult to make than the slick, desperate movements of his hands. It took effort to say them, like there was a band constricting his lungs, squeezing them uncomfortably in his chest, and yet whenever he managed to release them it was cathartic, and oh so liberating and _frightening_ and whenever he thought about Watanuki hearing his words, not real-life Watanuki but the Watanuki of his fantasies (separating the two was the only way he had managed to stay sane), he imagined the way they would make him even more aroused, would make his eyelids flutter in ecstasy and his hands grip tighter and his movements more frantic. And the idea of turning on Watanuki turned him on. He muttered, moaned, groaned and sighed his words to arouse Watanuki to arouse himself.

Heat, tight and fierce like a clenched fist, spread through his body and made him arch his back. He felt like a bow pulled tight. Gasping, he begged, used his words in a desperate bid for release.

"Kimihiro, please, please, I need more, I need…" he ground out in a strangled whisper.

Suddenly it was all too much.

"Ah!" he cried, a sound that could easily be taken for pain as much as pleasure, threw his head back against the pillow and gasped and shuddered through his orgasm.

When he came back down, there was only the sound of his own harsh breathing and the soft breeze coming though his window. His hand was sticky and his pyjama shorts had adhered to his skin.

Sighing, he left the warmth of his bedsheets and padded to the laundry. Leaving his shorts to soak, he returned to his room and cleaned himself up with a tissue. Returning to his bed, he sighed, exhausted, and contemplated his dream.

They had only got so far as kissing (even if Watanuki had gotten undressed), and yet this dream had been one of the most intense he had ever experienced. He thought it might have been because Watanuki had initiated the first touch. In all of his other dreams, Doumeki himself had begun all of the encounters. In his dreams, he had always been the first to encourage, to push, to gently stroke or roughly claim for his own, to turn a hard unwilling mouth into one that gasped and whispered in longing against his own.

Doumeki had done far more than merely _kiss_ Watanuki in his dreams.

And yet…this one could undo him.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Do not own xxxHOLiC, no profit intended either.

* * *

_All falsehood is a mask; and however well made the mask may be, with a little attention we may always succeed in distinguishing it from the true face._

Alexandre Dumas

* * *

Watanuki had an evening to himself for once. He sighed, relaxed, and took another sip of his steaming tea. He crossed his legs, rested the teacup on his knee, and pondered the day.

Doumeki had been a little weird. Then again, Doumeki was always weird. Watanuki just didn't understand how the moron's brain worked. He'd been trying to decipher him recently – like an animal behaviour study at the zoo. But it was difficult – Doumeki's impassive expression and deadpan delivery were nigh impenetrable. Like a fortress.

He _thought_ he might have glimpsed something today, the brief glimmer of scales in a dark koi pond.

When he had handed Doumeki his bento at lunch that day, their hands had brushed briefly. Watanuki had opened his mouth to object to this when he'd noticed Doumeki go a bit blank behind the eyes, almost like his thoughts had gone somewhere else for the moment. But it was only for a moment, and calm, watchful Doumeki was back behind his eyes again by the time the bento was entirely in his hands.

And yet what kind of an observation was that, blank eyes in a blank face? It was so slight, so miniscule a change that Watanuki could very well have imagined it. He harrumphed, almost upsetting his tea. Watching for a change in Doumeki's expression was like watching for an eddy in a gale. Impossible to make out from the background.

Watanuki twitched, suddenly having had an idea.

On his bookshelf was a book full of those Magic Eye pictures. The kind where, if you looked hard enough or squinted or turned your head at just the right angle, you could make out the shapes of people or animals or ships against the otherwise maelstrom of colour and geometric shapes. Himawari had given it to him for his birthday. To his great sadness, he had only been able to make out two of the thirty-five images in the book. He just didn't have the knack.

But perhaps this was the kind of skill he needed to be able to decipher Doumeki.

* * *

Watanuki had had his nose stuck in the same book every lunchtime for the past two weeks.

"I'm so glad you like your present, Watanuki!" Himawari beamed.

"You have no idea how helpful this book has been to me recently, thank you Himawari, you're so thoughtful~!" Watanuki said, smiling for a moment over the top of the book. "I've almost figured out every one."

When he glanced back down, he suddenly had it.

"Ah! A clock tower, of course!" he cried ecstatically. Keeping his eyes locked in their unfocused position, he looked up at Doumeki, who until then had been munching contendedly on the contents of his bento.

"Doumeki!" he snapped. "What's your favourite daydream?"

Dimly he saw Doumeki's face, the entirely unexpected _dropping of his jaw_ and the brief _glazing-over of eyes_.

Success!

But Doumeki merely said after a moment, "You're all cross-eyed. You look like an idiot."

"AHHHH!"

* * *

Watanuki chopped the vegetables for dinner, a smug and satisfied grin stretched across his face. It had been a veritable victory, a definite reaction! He'd rethought the whole going cross-eyed thing though – if he'd been any more cross-eyed he'd have missed it. Upon further thought, his expression became sly, one Yuuko would have been proud of.

Perhaps he'd merely hit upon the right question.

Perhaps Doumeki had been having naughty daydreams – if that was true, it meant that the moron had a sense of shame after all, indicated by the brief shock and, dare he say it, _embarrassment_ that had flashed across his features! Ha! Human after all!

It was hard to imagine Doumeki aroused by anything, though. It was a completely foreign concept. A niggling thought came to the surface – he'd better not be fantasizing about Himawari! The very thought made him grind his teeth in frustration. Her innocence must be protected!

"Watanuki! Where's my dinner?" Yuuko yelled.

"And bring more sake!" Mokona added.

"Bring more sake, bring more sake!" Maru and Moro chimed.

"It's coming, you ungrateful ingrates!" Watanuki shouted through the kitchen door.

And yet…another thought, even more impossible to imagine, gradually drifted into his mind. If the first anomaly he'd witnessed was in fact a real one, the circumstances indicated a different story.

_When I handed over his bento, his eyes went blank for a moment. When we touched._

Had Doumeki been imagining what else he could have done with those hands?

No way. No _way_.

And yet…his mind supplied more examples and they started adding up. Doumeki followed him around everywhere, even when it was not strictly necessary or required by Yuuko. Doumeki _insisted_ on always being there whenever he was with Himawari – jealousy? Doumeki had gone out of his way, _far_ out of his way, to help him many times.

Doumeki had traded half the sight in his goddamned _eye_ for him. There was no way that was normal.

Maybe Doumeki simply had a strong sense of duty. Maybe there was some other reason that Doumeki was always there whenever Himawari was around. But what reason could there possibly be for sacrificing his sight – which was especially important to his accuracy as an archer – when Watanuki had had another perfectly good eye left through which he could still see? When he'd known that Watanuki had preferred to let things be?

He had to admit – grudgingly, painfully – it seemed that Doumeki had strong feelings about him. Even if they weren't sexual (but what about the hand touch, and his reaction to that question?), Doumeki had to at least have some very strong platonic feelings for him. Well, as far as Doumeki-type feelings went anyway. He sighed in frustration. Yuuko had indicated this to him before – that Doumeki cared about him, that he didn't want him to disappear.

He didn't want to believe it. The moron irritated him beyond belief. He didn't want to accept that Doumeki had…_feelings_ about him.

Surely there was some way by which he could prove himself wrong. If only he could see through Doumeki's eye – he was sure that would have revealed something eventually. Perhaps him jerking off to the image of a woman in a magazine. That thought made him uncomfortable in ways he preferred not to contemplate.

_But wait…he can see through mine._

There was a way. But the risk of personal embarrassment was huge, especially if he was wrong, which was his hope – wasn't it? And yet…if Doumeki would trade half the sight in his right eye for him, surely he would keep a little secret. And it wasn't impossible for him to dissemble afterwards, not really. He could make up any number of lies, if necessary.

And it couldn't be helped, really. It was inevitable that he was going to masturbate eventually. It was equally inevitable that the strong emotion evoked by said masturbation would make the act visible to Doumeki through his eye, which was why Watanuki had been avoiding it for as long as possible. He'd been avoiding even _looking_ at his morning erections in the shower. He'd suspected that if their positions had been reversed, Doumeki would have been completely shameless about such things. But maybe…maybe Doumeki wasn't as shameless, as impervious to feeling, as he'd thought.

It was all up to him. He'd have to wait for the perfect moment.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own xxxHOLiC - I wouldn't want that responsibility anyway. No profit intended.

* * *

_Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth. _

Oscar Wilde

* * *

Doumeki was concerned. Watanuki had been acting strange all week.

_Strange_ meant that Doumeki wasn't getting yelled at constantly, wasn't having to plug his ears or be called a moron, meant that Watanuki had stopped complaining so much whenever Doumeki was around.

Doumeki didn't know how he felt about this. Something was surely wrong. Had Watanuki done something he wanted to hide, like that time he had sacrificed his right eye? That was his suspicion. Of course Watanuki would want to hide stupid things like that.

Even now, they were walking side by side, companionably enough. That never happened. Whenever they went somewhere together, Watanuki usually stormed off in front, leaving Doumeki to trail behind.

What was going on, what could be – ?

Watanuki stiffened and his steps slowed.

"Doumeki," he said. "Doumeki, stop."

He stopped.

"It's a spirit, isn't it."

Watanuki huffed. "Of course it's a spirit. But this one's huge, really nasty looking." His eyes were focused on something on the distance. "I…don't think it's noticed me yet. Let's go the long way around."

"Okay."

Watanuki covered his nose and mouth, stepping slowly backwards. Then he froze. "Ah, shit."

"It's seen you."

"Ah, shit."

"We should run."

"Ah – "

"Run!"

Doumeki grabbed his arm and rushed him down a side way. "If this thing's as scary looking as you say, we should go to the temple. You can stay at my place for a while, until it gives up on you and leaves."

"Yeah, alright."

Doumeki's eyes slid sideways and widened a fraction. He hadn't expected Watanuki to acquiesce so easily.

But he didn't ask questions.

"Let's run."

They arrived at the temple just in time. Panting, Watanuki was hunched over with his hands on his knees.

"I'm so glad we avoided that one," he said. "But ugh, I feel disgusting."

"It's a hot, sticky day. You just ran at full speed for over a kilometre. Of course you're sweaty," Doumeki pointed out.

"I need to use your shower," he gasped.

"Gyoza," Doumeki replied.

"What?"

"I let you use my shower, you make me gyoza."

"Oh. Well, alright. That's an easy one."

Doumeki hesitated. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Watanuki waved a hand, as if to wave away the question. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm going to have my shower now."

Well, alright.

"Spare towels are in the bathroom."

* * *

As Watanuki stepped into the shower, he worried.

_I can do this now_, he thought. _All I have to do is…_

God. He couldn't even think it.

But he could do it.

He curled his fingers around his growing erection and stroked it to fullness. That part was easy. It had been a long time, after all.

_This is a stupid and unnecessary experiment_, his brain supplied.

And yet he continued. He'd decided on a course of action, and by one way or another, actually by _this_ way that he'd decided on, he was going to get a reaction out of Doumeki, and finally get some insight into the numbskull's actual _feelings_. Stopping now, he'd convinced himself, would be worse than continuing. In an intellectual sense.

He didn't want to admit it really. But the idea that Doumeki had sexual feelings for him, for anyone at all really but especially for _him_, had him curious.

Very…curious.

His eyelids had fluttered shut.

_No, you have to open them_.

So he opened them, and he looked. He imagined. Another hand, reaching to grip him _just so_. Rubbing the tip with his thumb.

Oh, yes.

Gasping, he saw the glass pane of the shower door, fogged with steam.

He felt one final twinge of embarrassment.

_I don't have to do this part. _

_Yes, I do, if I really want to _know…

So slowly, painstakingly, he traced Doumeki's name, his personal name, onto the fogged glass.

_Shizuka. _

_Oh, God, I did it_.

And with that, all caution flew out the window.

_In for a penny…_

Invigorated and emboldened by his own daring, he leaned against the glass, partially smearing the name with his forearm, _his_ name, and watched the movements of his hand bringing himself higher, winding himself tighter and tighter. Using his forearm to wipe at the condensation deliberately now, he looked through the glass at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. He tossed back his head and gazed, almost deliriously, into the eyes of the person in the mirror.

_What will he think of this?_ he thought, and, _I wish those weren't my own eyes. _

_But…one of them's not._

_Ah…God…_

_Ah… _


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: xxxHOLiC belongs to CLAMP. No profit intended from this fanfiction.

* * *

_Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within. _

James A. Baldwin

* * *

His knuckles were white, he realized dimly.

There was no way, _no way_, he was seeing what he was seeing.

Should he…perhaps go in there now…?

There he was, seeing what he was seeing, and yet he was still so _unsure_. He had not believed it was possible.

Was Watanuki doing this in order to mess with his head? Because it was definitely messed with right now. But surely not…but what other reason…

Perhaps he should pretend not to have seen anything. That would be the safe option.

But then he would _never know_.

And he desperately, so desperately, wanted to know.

_Is it true?_

_Oh, gods, is it true…?_

He had an idea.

Just a little test.

He walked over to the bathroom door and knocked.

* * *

"Watanuki? Watanuki, you're taking too long."

Watanuki jumped in shock, and yet he was there, elsewhere, completely elsewhere. Amidst his desire, in his shock, he called out Doumeki's name. In his mind, he heard it: _Doumeki! Geez, you scared me. _

And yet it came out of his mouth completely differently.

"_Shizuka…_"

And he shuddered, panting, already realising his mistake, already scared, already regretting.

* * *

Doumeki opened the door and entered the bathroom.

The rush of the shower was almost too loud, filling the yawning silence between them with static. Doumeki saw the trail of white, already being washed from the inside of the glass door by the water.

"Watanuki…you…"

He waited. For once, Watanuki seemed out of words.

"I saw…but I didn't think…but then I heard…"

Eloquent. Really eloquent.

"You…"

He saw the fear in Watanuki's eyes, glazing them over. And suddenly Doumeki knew.

_The moment he says a word, the moment he starts talking, it will be denials and accusations, belligerence and refusals. He will put his mask back on, he will clothe himself again in words. He will convince himself that he did not do this, did not mean this, it was a mistake. He will not listen. _

_No, don't let him be frightened, don't let him refuse this, not now, not now. _

_Look, he's opening his mouth, you must stop him. _

With that, he rushed toward the shower, wrenched open the door, and stepped in.

* * *

Watanuki froze in shock, his heart pounding, _disbelief, disbelief, disbelief_.

Doumeki's clothes were becoming soaked by the hot water. Watanuki stared, still disbelieving, impossible that Doumeki should be so close to him, the sheer physical presence of him, impossible, impossible, and yet he could see a nipple defined by the wet fabric, water dripping from his chin.

Those brown fingers, loosening the buttons of his shirt.

"What are you – "

"Be quiet."

But still, in his mind, _what are you what are you what are you doing_...

"Be quiet, says Shizuka, ha ha," slipped out of his mouth anyway. What absolute nonsense.*

* * *

Doumeki grasped Watanuki's hand and slid it inside his open shirt, hanging heavy now with water.

"No, no," came out of Watanuki's mouth, and yet his eyes were wondering.

_Getting through the disbelief. Good. _

It did not go unnoticed by Doumeki that this was almost a mirror-image of his dream. That hot, slippery hand, lightly skimming over his ribs. Pulling away.

"Don't do that. Keep going."

It was hard to look Watanuki in the eye. But he did, and he hoped that his thoughts were being displayed properly in his face. But just to be sure, he used words, pulling them up from his being - stubborn words, so deeply rooted in his soul that bringing them to the surface felt like an enormous wrenching.

"I want you to touch me."

Peeling the shirt from his body, he stepped closer, allowing his hands to hang at his sides. Open.

"Please. Kimihiro."

Saying those words, he had to close his eyes for a moment. It was painful to say those words, and yet pulling them out from himself provided a deep relief, like shifting a dislocated joint back into position, or stretching a muscle somewhere deep inside of him that had been held stiff and tight for years.

"I want you," he rasped.

Those wide, wide eyes. No doubt they had already seen the shape of his erection, straining against the soaked fabric.

Pale, creamy hands, reaching slowly, wonderingly…those eyes again, seeking confirmation.

_Yes,_ he gave it with his eyes. _Yes. _

"Are you sure – ?"

"This time," Doumeki murmured, "you will be silent, and I will speak."

* * *

Author's note: To me, right now, this story feels finished. I don't feel it necessary to write the sex scene. Once upon a time, I would have gone there. But now to me it feels complete right here. Perhaps I will change my mind later on – it's not impossible – and add another chapter to the story. Certainly I find the idea of a silent Watanuki and a verbally expressive Doumeki an appealing thing to write about. If I do add it later on, it won't really be adding anything to the meat of the story – so if by the time you read this story there _is_ another chapter added, that's what it will be, and by no means should you feel obliged to read it. I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* In Japanese, _shizuka_ means quiet, or peaceful.


End file.
